Everything is not always as it seems
by AmbivalentOxymoron
Summary: Late entry for FitzSimmons week. Everyone always thinks Brits can hold their alcohol...


Skye buried her head back into the sofa and groaned. Her head felt like a thousand knives were using her as a pin cushion and her stomach just felt _wrong_.

"Sore head?" May held up a glass of water and two paracetamol before placing them on the table in front of the young hacker.

"I blame FitzSimmons," Skye grimaced, heaving herself up into a seated position. "They are _evil_. Evil science geniuses who I will _never_ drink with again. They have an unfair advantage."

"How?"

"Duh- they're_ British_. They're like genetically predisposed to be able to drink gallons of alcohol without passing out." She put her hand over her mouth, praying her queasiness would pass.

"No they're not." May gave Skye a knowing look, her face almost smiling but not quite.

Skye looked puzzled, her mind not functioning in her hungover state, "Er, they _are _British. Scotland and England are part of..."

"I know they're British Skye," May rolled her eyes. "I also know they can't handle their drink as well as everyone thinks they can."

"FitzSimmons can _totally_ hold their drink. They drank me, Coulson and Tripp under the table last night. The only reason they didn't do it to you is because you cried off."

"Watch them next time; you'll see what I mean." May stood quietly and left as Skye downed her tablets with the water.

"I _hate_ British people," she groaned.

-:-

_Three weeks later..._

The whole team was gathered in the Bus communal area, relaxing after a successful mission. They had managed to locate an unstable electromagnetic field which was causing violent electrical storms in the vicinity; May had had to control the Bus through the turbulence and the team were thankful she was such a skilled pilot. They managed to isolate an 0-8-4 at the centre of the storm using a remote anti-magnetic levitation device Fitz had developed. They were all still running on adrenaline, and Skye was having difficulty keeping still.

"Come on guys, we can't just sit here. Let's do something fun!"

"We could watch a film?" Simmons suggested.

"Oh, like we don't do that _every night_," Skye shook her head.

"A board game?"

"No. AC is a sore loser," Skye shot down Tripp's suggestion.

"How about a drinking game? You guys never made it to the end of Ring of Fire the other week," Fitz winked at Simmons and Skye glanced at May, who raised her eyebrows. Skye's stomach growled at the memory of the hangover from hell, but this was for scientific research; she would outsmart the evil geniuses if it killed her.

"Sure, I'll get the drinks," she moved to stand up but Fitz was faster and raced to the kitchen.

"No, no, you sit down and lay out the cards. I'll get the drinks," he gave another meaningful glance to Simmons.

"Okay, so we all remember the rules, yes? Obviously International Drinking Rules apply," the biochemists voice was high pitched and her eyes were wide. She was making a big show of clearing the table and laying out the playing cards in a perfect circle. If Skye didn't know better she'd bet the scientist was lying or... _creating a diversion_.

Skye's suspicions were heightened and she peered over Simmons to watch Fitz in the kitchen. He was trying unsuccessfully to shield what he was doing, keeping his back to the waiting group of agents. She could see he had spread out the shot glasses in front of him and was filling them with a clear liquid which she assumed was vodka... from two bottles. She watched as he carefully filled those on his right from one bottle, and those on his left from the other. He then brought all of the shots into the seating area on a tray, along with a bottle of beer for everyone.

"What have we got then Fitz?" Tripp asked.

"Some of Russia's finest, and beers for the waterfall," he raised a bottle in a mock toast.

"They're all vodka?"Skye questioned.

"Of course. There's whiskey if you want to change yours?"

"God, no," Skye grimaced.

As Fitz placed four shot glasses in front of Jemma Skye reached across and slid them in front of her.

"Oh no, Skye, those are mine!"

"Those are Jemma's!" The scientists spoke over each other, mild panic evident on their faces.

"Why? Can't you just have those?" Skye nodded towards the four glasses Fitz had planned to place in front of her.

"Well, you see Skye, those are my _favourite_ shot glasses," Jemma's expression was solemn.

"They're exactly the same as all the others!"

"Actually, they just _look_ the same, but really..."

"I _knew_ it! What did you put in these ones?" Skye looked accusingly at Fitz before sniffing at her glass and downing the shot. "It's water! You're cheating!"

Simmons flushed beetroot red and Fitz shifted nervously on his feet, mouth gaping. "It's not cheating, it's..."

"...Sensible." Simmons finished for him.

"But you're _British_. You're supposed to be able to drink. And you're _not_ supposed to cheat!"

Simmons rolled her eyes, "that's exactly why we have to do this."

"Do what?" The hacker admonished she shamefaced pair in front of her.

"They're not all water," Fitz explained. "We alternate; one alcohol, one water. Helps keep our wits about us."

"Yes, we don't want to end up like that time at the Boiler Room again. _No thank you_." Simmons shook her head fervently.

Fitz nodded in agreement and placed a hand on Simmons' shoulder. "People just _assumed _that because we're British we can hold our drink..."

"...In actual fact there is no genetic predisposition for British people to be able to drink more. There _are _some genotypes where people actually can't drink alcohol _at all_..."

"Simmons, keep to the point," Skye tapped the side of her beer bottle as though about to make a speech.

"Right, yes. Well when we started at the Academy it seemed to be the mission of everyone else on campus to get us drunk..."

"...Probably because we were the youngest..."

"...So we decided to take the situation into our own hands," Simmons smiled proudly.

"Once you drink a few seniors under the table they start to leave you alone," Fitz grinned at Simmons conspiratorially.

"That's... evil. Now I know why the villain is always British in movies," Skye gaped open mouthed at her friends' ingenuity.

"It's not _evil _Skye, it's basic biology," Simmons smiled breezily and downed a shot of H20.

"Well, you may not be stereotypical British drinkers, but you are _definitely_ stereotypical science nerds."

Fitz looked between Skye and Simmons, "Was that supposed to be an insult?"

**A/N: The science in this fic is pure nonsense, so I apologise to anyone who reads this and wonders what on earth I'm talking about. In case you weren't sure, Ring of Fire is a drinking game and the 'waterfall' is one of the consequences of picking a card (you have to drink all of your drink). Please drink sensibly like FitzSimmons **


End file.
